Suicide. It’s a choice that cannot be changed. My husband of eight years took his life 22 years ago today. Let’s see, that’s 264 months. And I couldn’t even begin to count the days. It seems so long ago, yet, it feels just like it was yesterday.

Robert Evans Pollock was a dreamy guy. Handsome. Fit. Full of life and had so much love to give. I was one lucky girl to have been set up on a blind date with him. It was August 6, 1986. And I fell head over heels for the man with the kind eyes, hot bod, and a brilliant creative mind. Did I say hot bod? Lol. Well, I was in my 20’s after all. One year and one month later we were married. I was one of the happiest girls around.

To have such a “light” approach to such a serious subject, is that so wrong? Truly, don’t be fooled. I’ve taken this subject very seriously for many years. Yet it changed me–his decision to leave his body–forever. He left his “life”, he left me–and he left behind our precious daughters–one a toddler. The other 6 and a half years of age. Words cannot express the wake of devastation that he left behind that was far-reaching–not only to us but also to his mother, his father, his sister and his entire family–and also to the hundreds of friends Bob had as well. He was loved by many.

I had no warning that my sweet husband, the love of my life, would take his own life. None. Zip. Zero signs. Why would he? We had talked about growing old together. And discussed seriously where we would live when we were older, hopefully with grandchildren scurrying about our feet during their visits to Grandma and Grandpas’s place. By the beach. Yes. I’m fairly certain it was a home by the beach.

Oh, I’ve learned a great deal about the subject of suicide.

I’ve been interviewed on radio shows, shared my story with audiences who seem to be inspired that I was able to overcome such a tragedy; and I was able to share a personal angle of my story right after Robin Williams had taken his life three years ago when I was invited to be one of the “100 Voices for Suicide Prevention” by the University of Southern California’s School of Social Work. Click here to read my story. 

Writing this today seems apropos. 264 months after you, Bob left all of us on that hot summer day. My daughters are now 28 and 25. And I have a son who is 18. I shared with him that today was the “anniversary” of Bob’s departure and that I might be a bit sad. His response was “Well, I’m glad it’s way in the past Mom. And that’s a good thing.” I think he was saying “Be in the present Mom.” What a wise soul my son is.

Still. I do miss Bob. Suicide is a forever kind of thing. It is a choice that cannot be changed.